The last time my mom, brother, and sister and I were together for a happy occasion was June 1980 for my sister’s wedding. December of that year, my brother enlisted in the Army and spent the next ten years in Germany.
For the most part, my siblings missed my formative years because I was what you might call a “bonus baby.” When I came along my sister was already 14 ½ and my brother was 12. We were all together in 1985 when my Dad had a heart attack, but those were tense times. We reconvened again in December 2006 when he was dying, and as one might expect, things were said that shouldn’t have been. When he finally passed away in April 2007, we attended the funeral with the families we had made for ourselves, and each of us turned to them for comfort.It wasn’t until the fall of 2010 when I had a pulmonary embolism that I realized I just wanted one adult memory with my siblings when we weren’t distressed. I saw that there would be a “Black politics” conference an hour from where they lived, and grabbed the opportunity. I invited my brother, my sister, and our mom to join me for lunch.
Family dynamics have a way of being ingrained, and I had forgotten an old one that was pretty sweet. When we all lived at home I was “the baby.” This meant that I was immune to the rivalry that existed between my siblings and they were both pretty kind to me.
Over the years our relationships changed and the “baby status” had been replaced with, “Who does she think she is?” But I was able to put that aside, maybe because I was in a good place emotionally. I don’t know if it was the embolism, the slow and painful death of a dear friend to cancer, or just the fact that by now we all had bifocals; but we were good to each other on Saturday. We listened to each others' stories and learned about the life experiences that we hadn’t shared.
My brother brought his daughter, who is now the age I was in 1980. Looking at her reminded me of how we used to be. The visit was only two hours, and when my Mom climbed into the car, she said to me “Bye, Baby.” My sister-in-law giggled, “Baby?!??!.” I laughed and said, it’s like that Helen Reddy song, “She’s 41 and her Momma still calls her baby.” I stood there waiving as they pulled away.
I now have one good adult memory with my family of origin. With my people, you only get that once in a perigee moon.
I loved this post. My siblings and I go through the usual sibling 'ish but one thing has been ingrained in us by our parents...that from the cradle to the grave, we will alwys have each other. Even when we no longer have parents, God has blessed us with siblings. we were taught to look out for one another, love unconditionally and accept the negatives with the positive. one of our sisters, the oldest is mentally ill. She is our cross to bear. We are now; 65, 58, 55, 53 and 48. We still remain close and enjoy being together with our mother who is 83. Daddy died when the baby sister was 12 years old...36 years ago. He would be so proud!
ReplyDeleteThis coming weekend is our annual family reunion vacation. Four days of fun at the beach with four generations. A real hot mess but we love it. Our first member of the fifth generation was born in June. Our mother's first great-great grandchild is a girl and we can't wait to meet her. I am thankful for these gatherings.